


Pie is Home: People Always Come Home

by turquoisetumult



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoisetumult/pseuds/turquoisetumult
Summary: "Na-uh, Dean," a toothless smile and a meeting between two pairs of soft green eyes and then, simply: "I'll always need you."Lunch between the Winchester boys on Sam's sixth birthday. Lots of brotherly love, even when Dean's being mean.





	Pie is Home: People Always Come Home

A small soggy wad of loosely rolled paper hits Sammy Winchester right in between the eyes and the only thing the boy can do is shout, in a highly annoyed tone, "Deeeeean!"

Sam picks off the ball swathed in spit as Dean tactlessly shoves his straw back his root beer.

"What'd you do _that_ for, Dean?"

The ten year old shrugs. "Had to."

"I'm gonna tell Dad you did that when he comes back. And when he hears you were being mean to me on my _birthday_ … he's gonna, he's gonna …" Sam furrows his eyebrows in pensive thought, but Dean rolls his eyes, adding, "He's gonna what, Sam?"

Smugness illuminates Sam's chubby visage as he responds, "He's gonna make you ride in the backseat of the 'mpala!"

Grinning, he resumes sitting on his hands and kicking his legs beneath the diner's off-white booth as little "gotcha there!" taps reach Dean's shins every few seconds.

"Shuddup, Sammy."

"Gonna tell Dad you told me to 'shuddup' too!"

"Please," Dean snorts. "Look, Dad's probably gonna thank me for what I did. You deserved it."

Still feeling the presence of saliva on his face, Sam intensely scrubs his forehead with his sleeve until his skin turns red. "Did not!"

"Yeah, you did. Someone had to remind you that you're not a girl."

Sam exclaims in protest, "I know I'm not a girl, Dean!"

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain what you're wearing?"

The younger boy cocks his head to one side and scrunches his nose in curiosity. "Whaddaya mean?"

"That beaded necklace," he points to the thread strung with pink and white plastic beads around Sam's neck. "You don't see me or Dad wearing one like it, do you?"

Sam briefly shakes his head. "No." And shrugging, he adds, "So?"

Dean sighs before stating, "So… it means you're a girl! No self-respecting boy would wear something like that."

"Why?" Sammy says, glancing down at his shirt. "I like it! A girl in my class gave it to me as my birthday present."

"Someone gave you a _necklace_ for a gift? Chicks," the older brother breathes to himself. "Man, are they weird..."

Turning up his chin, Sam inquires: "What's so weird about baby chickens?"

Huffing, Dean only says, "Speaking of grub, hurry up and make up your mind about you what you want for lunch alrea-"

"French fries!" Sam shouts before Dean even has the chance to finish.

"Well, you can't order just that. What else?"

"Hmmm … salt."

" _Sam_ ," demands Dean, in a tone that is not quite his own.

"And a cheesebooger."

Dean chuckles and corrects his brother. "You mean cheese _burger_ , right, doofus?"

Sam grins, his two bottom front teeth missing. "Mmhm!"

"Okay. What 'bout for dessert?"

"I want…" Sam pauses, carefully deliberating the issue. "Count Chocula."

Because, as Dean knows, Lucky Charms were so last year. Six year old Sam liked the cereal whose spokesperson had a cape and fangs, yet still ate chocolate cereal with milk like any other person. Dean keeps wishing Sam's next cereal doesn't have a mystical representative like a leprechaun and vampire. The truth the kid would have to learn in a few short years would only be harder to swallow otherwise.

"But they have some really yummy stuff here, Sammy. You can have Count Chocula when we get back to the motel."

Sam slaps the back of his hand on the table, reaching out to Dean for the menu. "I wanna see what kind of yummy stuff they have."

"Sam, you learned how to spell your own name last month. How do you expect to read an entire menu by yourself?"

The boy pouts, putting his hands under his thighs again. "Well, what do they have?"

"Um... They have cupcakes, muffins, brownies, pies, ice cr-."

"I want pie. With cherries."

Dean scanned the list of pies. Apple, blueberry, coconut custard, peach, strawberry. Five flavors and not one of them was cherry. Well, wasn't that the Winchester luck.

"Hey, Sam, what about peach pie? You like peach, don't you?"

The boy shrugs, procuring from his book-bag the crown made of green construction paper that he was given at school. The words _Happy Birthday, Sam!_ were plastered in silver glitter all across it. "'s okay. But I really, really, _really_ like cherry pie."

Dean watches Sam adjust the crown on his head and can't help but reply, "All right, Sammy. Cherry pie it is."

"Good! And we'll bring some home for Dad 'cause he said he was coming back real soon and I know it'll be tonight 'cause he's never missed my birthday."

Sam was right; John Winchester has always been gone for his own birthdays and he's missed one of Dean's, but he's never been absent for one of Sam's.

"Yeah, we'll do that." Dean eyes a waitress on the other end of the room, currently serving an old woman her tea. "Listen, I've gotta go do something, but I'll be right back, okay. Don't move; stay right where you are."

"Okaaaay," replies Sam in annoyance as he pulls out crayons from his book-bag and turns over the table's placemat.

Dean inhales heavily as he approaches the waitress. He is two feet away from her when he sees that she has fiery red hair and receives a flash of sympathetic emerald-green eyes, reminding him of Christmas trees that touched the ceiling of their old home in Lawrence. Dean surmises that she's a relatively young woman, probably only working a few hours to help her parents with college expenses.

The girl turns around unexpectedly to face Dean and he quietly gasps. He quickly runs through all the tricks his father gave him on obtaining information from someone, on getting what you want. _Stay calm. Look cool, collected. Remember to use everything you got to your advantage._

And right now, he remembers his age. He's a kid. Women find kids cute, right? Some kind of maternal instinct? Dean swallows and thinks how he's totally going to hate himself for this later…

"Miss?" he says, his voice sounding younger than it should.

"How can I help you, sweetie?" the girl asks.

Dean fights every urge to not let disgust show on his face. He really hates it when people call him "sweetie."

The waitress parts her lips, concerned about Dean's silence. "You okay, honey?"

Even worse when it's "honey." But he sucks it up. He has to.

"Um, miss, I wanted to ask you something." Dean takes the waitress – Janey, he realizes as he glances at her nameplate – by the hand and turns her so she is in view of Sam. "Okay, well, you see that little kid," Dean points to Sam. "That's my baby brother and it's his birthday today. Our dad left us some money for lunch and, well, Sammy's really got his heart set on pie for dessert. The only problem is that he can only have cherry pie 'cause he either doesn't like the other flavors or is alleged to them–"

Janey interrupts with a smirk. "'Alleged?' Do you maybe mean 'allergic,' hon?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so." Dean scratches behind his ear. "Anyway, our dad says that Sammy can't have a lot of fruits like apples and peaches. I was wondering if you could make him a small cherry pie. It doesn't have to be big – just enough for him and me…" Dean tugs on Janey's smock before tacking on with his best innocent-little-boy smile: "Pretty please? With a _cherry_ on top."

Janey's face softens and cups Dean's cheek. "Aww. That's so very sweet of you to ask. But I don't make the pies; the cook does. And they only use the materials they have to make the desserts. We can't really go out of the way to buy cherries and make a whole cherry pie." She strokes his face and says with a sad frown, "I'm sorry."

Knowing cash is the gateway to success, Dean immediately slips, "Well, y'know, we have a few extra bucks. I can pay you guys enough money to cover the cherries you'd hafta buy."

"Hon, I'm sorry, but our cook just won't do it. It's busy enough as it is today and he just doesn't have the time. Maybe your little brother wouldn't mind a cupcake? Or brownies? I bet you if you guys try our brownies, you'll see that they're the best brownies around!"

Dean sighs. "No… He wants cherry pie."

Janey returns to clearing one of the tables. "Sorry again. Is there anything else I can do for you two sweethearts? Anything at all?"

Dean looks over at Sam, scribbling red all over the paper placemat (and not staying at all within the lines of whatever he was coloring), eagerly awaiting a cherry pie.

"Yeah." He presses his lips together, hoping this would work. "If you guys won't make the cherry pie, then we'll take the strawberry one, I guess. But when you come over to take our order, I'm gonna tell you we want _cherry_ pie and you've just … gotta play along. Okay?"

The redhead smiles, understanding what Dean was trying to do. "You got it, hon. Why don't you go back to your table and I'll be over there in a jiffy."

Making his way back to Sam, Dean quietly groans. He failed. No cherry pie for Sammy. At least, he has the chance to maybe keep Sam happy, or, from being his usual puppy-eyed pouty little self; that is, if Dean plays his cards right.

He reaches their table and sits, searching for something to distract him for a little while. "Whatcha doing there, Sammy?"

"Colorin'. Wanna help me?"

Dean doesn't answer. Instead, Sam suddenly jumps down from his seat, with his paper and crayons in hand, and goes to sit next to Dean. "Here," he says, handing Dean a crayon. "You can be blue."

Just as Dean takes the crayon from Sam, Janey arrives. "Hello, boys. How can I help you two cuties?"

"Hi. Um, we'd like to order two cheeseburgers and some fries –"

"With salt!" Sam chimes in.

"Sammy! Fries already come with salt," Dean cries, exasperatedly. "Ugh, whatever … with salt." Dean gulps. "And one cherry pie."

"For this little guy, right?" Janey points at Sam.

"Yep! It's my birthday today."

"Well, Happy Birthday, kiddo! I've got a special surprise for you."

Mouth slightly agape, Sam says, "Really?"

"Yep. You'll see when I come back with your food." Janey flashes the both of them her biggest smile before whirling on her heel to leave.

Sam takes out a yellow crayon from the crayon box and begins to doodle on the opposite side of Dean for a few minutes. Suddenly stopping, he turns to his right and looks up at his big brother.

"What is it, dork-face?"

"Dean? What do you think the surprise is?"

"Huh?"

"What do ya think the surprise that that lady has for me is?"

Dean wondered himself what it could be. Wondered if they had cherries stocked in a secret cabinet and were maybe intentionally actually making a pie for Sam. Wondered why he wanted Sam to get his stupid cherry pie so badly.

Instead, he only replied. "I dunno."

"You don't think they're gonna sing _Happy Birthday_ to me, do you?" Sam frowns, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a disgusted manner.

"Nah, I don't think so. They usually only do that if someone asks them to."

"Good."

"But I can sing to you if you'd like–"

"Dean!"

"I'm kidding, Sammy. Lighten up. And, hey, look-" Dean nudges Sam in the arm, indicating him to look in the direction Janey was coming from. "She doesn't have a whole army of singers behind her, so that's a good sign."

"Okay, boys. I've got your two cheeseburgers and fries with lots of salt right here." Janey sets down the plastic tray and instinctively passes the objects in her left to her right before placing it on the table as well. "And one cherry pie."

"Looks good, right, Sam?"

"Yeah, but … Miss, can I have my surprise now?"

"Sure." Janey pushes a folded up napkin toward Sam. "Open it."

Sam takes the napkin with his short and stubby fingers and opens it on the table.

"Cookies? That's the surprise?" Dean asks, incredulously, huffing in disappointment.

"Yep. On the house." Janey offers an apologetic smile. "Enjoy the food, kids."

"Look, Dean," Sam says excitedly, jumping in his seat. "We got free cookies! This is the best birthday ever! Can we eat the pie now? Please? I just wanna try and then I'll eat my cheesebooger and fries, promise."

"Yeah, okay." Dean breathes in. "You get the first try. Here," he says, giving Sam a fork.

With no intention of properly cutting the small pie into slices, Sam stabs at the pie with his fork and twists and turns it until the crust and fruit loosens. He scoops the broken pieces with his left hand and sticks them onto his bowl-shaped fork. He all but shoves the fork into his mouth and his sparkling eyes and dimpled smile all but tell the story of how happy he is at the prospect of cherry pie. That is, of course, until his taste buds send a message to his brain cells.

"Hey, Dean. This pie doesn't really taste like cherry."

"What do you mean? You don't like it?"

"No, I like it. It's yummy, it's just that… it tastes weird."

This is the moment. Dean can't screw up this time. "What!?" he grabs at his own fork. He digs into the pie and puts a piece into his mouth. "Are you kidding, Sam? Not only is this cherry, but it's delicious!"

"Really?" Sam asks hesitantly, turning his head toward his big brother. Dean thinks how much easier this whole charade would be if the kid was still on the other side of the table, instead of one foot away and glancing up at him, like Dean's some sort of hero, with big curious eyes.

"Yeah!"

"Then how come it tastes funny?"

"Well, 'cause…"

"'Cause why?"

"'Cause they used special cherries."

"They did?"

"Yeah. Okay, remember the guy on the Lucky Charms box. Y'know, the guy with the magical powers that makes the cereal taste really good."

Sam nods; Dean continues. "Well, that guy makes jam too. Normally, cherry pies are made with regular cherry jam, but I told the waitress that it was your birthday. So the baker used special cherry jam for you. It tastes a little different, but there's magic in it and that's why it's so yummy."

"Why don't they use the magical jam all the time?"

"'Cause then it wouldn't be magical or special, Sammy. Duh!" Dean playfully pushes Sam's head. "But, I mean, if you don't want the pie with the special jam inside, then I guess we can just ask for a boring old cherry pie."

"No, wait! I never said I didn't like it."

Warily, Sam takes another bite. He lets the pie sit on his tongue until it turns to liquid. He swishes it around in his mouth, accessing the situation from every angle.

"Well?"

"I wanna keep _this_ one! It's tasty and we can't have magic cherry pie every day, right? I want Dad to try the magic pie. You think he's ever had any before? I think he'll really like it."

Dean breathes in relief. "Hey, it's your birthday. You're the boss today. And if you say you want the special cherry pie, then we'll have it."

"Cool. Thanks for telling the lady to give me magic cherries, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever. Now put that aside so we can have some later and eat your burger."

"Okay." Sam pushes the pie away and reaches for his burger and fries. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean says, already munching on fries.

"When do we have to go back to the motel?"

"As soon as it starts getting dark out. Why?"

"'Cause I wanted to go to the park after lunch."

"Sure you don't want me to give you those birthday punches instead?"

"Dean! That's mean."

"C'mon, Sam. You know they're coming. Either punches or noogies. Your call."

Sam grimaces in discontentment, forcing Dean to say: "Okay, we'll go to the park. But you gotta hurry up eating then."

"I wanna go on the monkey bars."

"Of course you do.

You're a monkey, after all. Make your monkey noises for me, Sam."

Completely ignoring Dean's statement, Sam blissfully continues. " _And_ then I wanna go fly on the swings. And _you_ have to push me."

Dean hated that. He didn't mind taking his kid brother to the park. He didn't mind glancing so often over his shoulder to see if Sammy was okay that he never got the chance to enjoy his own playtime. But he _hated_ standing behind a swing set with no one but thirty year old moms and sixty year old grand-dads for company.

So he tries his best and Dean starts his second ridiculous argument that day. "You sure you don't want to try and fly on your own? I mean, you are a whole six years old now. You really don't need me to push you."

To which Sammy Winchester swiftly and joyfully answers: "Na-uh, Dean," followed by a toothless smile and a meeting between two pairs of soft green eyes and then, simply: "I'll always need you.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on FF.net nearly 10 years ago! WOW. Thought maybe someone would like to read it here. Feedback always appreciated!


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